FIC - Princess Tutu - Fakir/Ahiru - "Happy Endings" - Rated G
Goddammit Jim!
Yes, yes I do blame this on James Kirk. And no, it really isn't rational. But yes, I will do it anyway.
This came from a two day youtube marathon of Princess Tutu. Because they deserve a happy ending, goddammit! And really, I suppose blame for this could fall on
hells_bells, because she linked me to an Inuyasha AMV that was pretty awesome, and that somehow led to a conversation of various favorite songs from cartoons, which led to me youtubing Spirit: Stallion of the Cimerron, which led to me looking at the account of the person who uploaded Spirit, and he had a Princess Tutu AMV, which reminded me of how awesome Princess Tutu, in it's all profoundly ridiculous ballet dancing goodness. And yeah, that was a really long run on sentence.
Ahem, now, on to the fic, yes?
In her dreams she danced.
Elegant.
En pointe.
She danced across a lake, wearing golden slippers and a dress made from the softest feathers of a white swan. Ahiru never questioned these dreams. She loved them too much to risk rationalizing them away. She sometimes danced alone in them, content to watch the ripples spread out from where her toes touched the water's surface. Most often she danced with her Knight. With Fakir.
With his hands holding hers, ink stained fingers sometimes lifting her by her waist, but never leaving a mark on her pure white attire.
Ahiru wished that her dreams could come true.
She had spent too much time as a human to really become a duck. She couldn't sleep out in the lake. She couldn't be content eating bread thrown to her by passersby. She couldn't forget what it was like to have fingers and toes, and a voice that others could understand.
She was never Princess Tutu in her dreams. She was grateful for that. She had never really been Princess Tutu, she'd just been playing a part. But Ahiru. She had been Ahiru, and she remained Ahiru even after transforming into a small yellow bird. She would always be Ahiru. Fakir knew that, called her that when he spoke to her. He could hold entire conversations with her, interpreting her limited skills at communication.
When Ahiru woke up with him, with all of her fingers and toes, she forgot how to breathe.
“I wrote you a story,” he whispered, eyes sleepy, voice hoarse.
Her eyes filled with tears.
They were in his bed, where they'd fallen asleep with Ahiru snuggled against his chest, her head tucked beneath a wing.
His fingers were gentle on her cheek as he leaned in, pressing their lips together with tender adoration. It didn't matter that she wasn't wearing any clothes, or that they both had morning breath. Didn't matter that her hair was a wild mess that resembled a sparrow's nest. It didn't matter that she had been a duck.
All that mattered was that Fakir was whispering how much he loved her, and his eyelashes looked damp, and her heart was fluttering in her chest.
“Ahiru...”
All that mattered was that they were both getting their happy endings.
“Fakir...”
Together.
Yes, yes I do blame this on James Kirk. And no, it really isn't rational. But yes, I will do it anyway.
This came from a two day youtube marathon of Princess Tutu. Because they deserve a happy ending, goddammit! And really, I suppose blame for this could fall on
hells_bells, because she linked me to an Inuyasha AMV that was pretty awesome, and that somehow led to a conversation of various favorite songs from cartoons, which led to me youtubing Spirit: Stallion of the Cimerron, which led to me looking at the account of the person who uploaded Spirit, and he had a Princess Tutu AMV, which reminded me of how awesome Princess Tutu, in it's all profoundly ridiculous ballet dancing goodness. And yeah, that was a really long run on sentence.
Ahem, now, on to the fic, yes?
In her dreams she danced.
Elegant.
En pointe.
She danced across a lake, wearing golden slippers and a dress made from the softest feathers of a white swan. Ahiru never questioned these dreams. She loved them too much to risk rationalizing them away. She sometimes danced alone in them, content to watch the ripples spread out from where her toes touched the water's surface. Most often she danced with her Knight. With Fakir.
With his hands holding hers, ink stained fingers sometimes lifting her by her waist, but never leaving a mark on her pure white attire.
Ahiru wished that her dreams could come true.
She had spent too much time as a human to really become a duck. She couldn't sleep out in the lake. She couldn't be content eating bread thrown to her by passersby. She couldn't forget what it was like to have fingers and toes, and a voice that others could understand.
She was never Princess Tutu in her dreams. She was grateful for that. She had never really been Princess Tutu, she'd just been playing a part. But Ahiru. She had been Ahiru, and she remained Ahiru even after transforming into a small yellow bird. She would always be Ahiru. Fakir knew that, called her that when he spoke to her. He could hold entire conversations with her, interpreting her limited skills at communication.
When Ahiru woke up with him, with all of her fingers and toes, she forgot how to breathe.
“I wrote you a story,” he whispered, eyes sleepy, voice hoarse.
Her eyes filled with tears.
They were in his bed, where they'd fallen asleep with Ahiru snuggled against his chest, her head tucked beneath a wing.
His fingers were gentle on her cheek as he leaned in, pressing their lips together with tender adoration. It didn't matter that she wasn't wearing any clothes, or that they both had morning breath. Didn't matter that her hair was a wild mess that resembled a sparrow's nest. It didn't matter that she had been a duck.
All that mattered was that Fakir was whispering how much he loved her, and his eyelashes looked damp, and her heart was fluttering in her chest.
“Ahiru...”
All that mattered was that they were both getting their happy endings.
“Fakir...”
Together.